Still the wind continued to blow harder. By no consciousprocess could he measure it， for it had long since passedbeyond all his experience of wind； but he knew somehow，nevertheless， that it was blowing harder. Not far away atree was uprooted， flinging its load of human beings tothe ground. A sea washed across the strip of sand， andthey were gone. Things were happening quickly. He saw abrown shoulder and a black head silhouetted against thechurning white of the lagoon. The next instant that， too，had vanished. Other trees were going， falling and crisscrossinglike matches. He was amazed at the power of thewind. His own tree was swaying perilously， one woman waswailing and clutching the little girl， who in turn still hungon to the cat.
The man， holding the other child， touched Raoul’s armand pointed. He looked and saw the Mormon churchcareering drunkenly a hundred feet away. It had been tornfrom its foundations， and wind and sea were heaving andshoving it toward the lagoon. A frightful wall of watercaught it， tilted it， and flung it against half a dozen cocoanuttrees. The bunches of human fruit fell like ripe cocoanuts.
The subsiding wave showed them on the ground， somelying motionless， others squirming and writhing. Theyreminded him strangely of ants. He was not shocked. Hehad risen above horror. Quite as a matter of course henoted the succeeding wave sweep the sand clean of thehuman wreckage. A third wave， more colossal than any hehad yet seen， hurled the church into the lagoon， where itfloated off into the obscurity to leeward， half-submerged，reminding him for all the world of a Noah’s ark.
He looked for Captain Lynch’s house， and was surprisedto find it gone. Things certainly were happening quickly.
He noticed that many of the people in the trees that stillheld had descended to the ground. The wind had yet againincreased. His own tree showed that. It no longer swayedor bent over and back. Instead， it remained practicallystationary， curved in a rigid angle from the wind andmerely vibrating. But the vibration was sickening. It waslike that of a tuning-fork or the tongue of a jew’s-harp. Itwas the rapidity of the vibration that made it so bad. Eventhough its roots held， it could not stand the strain forlong. Something would have to break.
Ah， there was one that had gone. He had not seen itgo， but there it stood， the remnant， broken off half-wayup the trunk. One did not know what happened unlesshe saw it. The mere crashing of trees and wails of humandespair occupied no place in that mighty volume of sound.
He chanced to be looking in Captain Lynch’s directionwhen it happened. He saw the trunk of the tree， halfwayup， splinter and part without noise. The head of thetree， with three sailors of the Aorai and the old captainsailed off over the lagoon. It did not fall to the ground， butdrove through the air like a piece of chaff. For a hundredyards he followed its flight， when it struck the water. Hestrained his eyes， and was sure that he saw Captain Lynchwave farewell.
Raoul did not wait for anything more. He touched thenative and made signs to descend to the ground. The manwas willing， but his women were paralayzed from terror，and he elected to remain with them. Raoul passed his ropearound the tree and slid down. A rush of salt water wentover his head. He held his breath and clung desperatelyto the rope. The water subsided， and in the shelter of thetrunk he breathed once more. He fastened the rope moresecurely， and then was put under by another sea. One ofthe women slid down and joined him， the native remainingby the other woman， the two children， and the cat.
The supercargo had noticed how the groups clinging atthe bases of the other trees continually diminished. Nowhe saw the process work out alongside him. It required allhis strength to hold on， and the woman who had joinedhim was growing weaker. Each time he emerged from asea he was surprised to find himself still there， and next，surprised to find the woman still there. At last he emergedto find himself alone. He looked up. The top of the treehad gone as well. At half its original height， a splinteredend vibrated. He was safe. The roots still held， while thetree had been shorn of its windage. He began to climbup. He was so weak that he went slowly， and sea aftersea caught him before he was above them. Then he tiedhimself to the trunk and stiffened his soul to face thenight and he knew not what.
He felt very lonely in the darkness. At times it seemedto him that it was the end of the world and that he wasthe last one left alive. Still the wind increased. Hour afterhour it increased. By what he calculated was eleven o’clock，the wind had become unbelievable. It was a horrible，monstrous thing， a screaming fury， a wall that smote andpassed on but that continued to smite and pass on—awall without end. It seemed to him that he had becomelight and ethereal； that it was he that was in motion； thathe was being driven with inconceivable velocity throughunending solidness. The wind was no longer air in motion.
It had become substantial as water or quicksilver. He had afeeling that he could reach into it and tear it out in chunksas one might do with the meat in the carcass of a steer；that he could seize hold of the wind and hang on to it as aman might hang on to the face of a cliff.
The wind strangled him. He could not face it andbreathe， for it rushed in through his mouth and nostrils，distending his lungs like bladders. At such moments itseemed to him that his body was being packed and swollenwith solid earth. Only by pressing his lips to the trunk ofthe tree could he breathe. Also， the ceaseless impact ofthe wind exhausted him. Body and brain became wearied.
He no longer observed， no longer thought， and was butsemiconscious. One idea constituted his consciousness：
SO THIS WAS A HURRICANE. That one idea persistedirregularly. It was like a feeble flame that flickeredoccasionally. From a state of stupor he would return toit—SO THIS WAS A HURRICANE. Then he would go offinto another stupor.
